


Let it snow

by DracoIgnis



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Jonerys, Kissing, Snow, kiss, relationship, so much fluff like prepare for diabetes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 10:16:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20993159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis
Summary: Jon may have lied to Daenerys about just how much snow falls in Scotland in the winter. So what does he do when she expects a white Christmas? A Jonerys AU short story with original artwork.





	Let it snow

..

On the first of December, Daenerys woke Jon up early in the morning. As he blinked his eyes open, staring into the darkness of their bedroom, her fingertips grabbed at his shoulders with urge. “Jon, wake up,” she whispered, “there’s something _ wrong._”

“Wrong?” he repeated in a mumble. He rolled over, yawning as he prodded himself up to rest on his elbows. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s December,” Daenerys spoke.

“Right.”

“But look-!” Daenerys climbed over him, reaching for the window on his side of the bed. As she dragged the curtains aside, Jon glared out into their empty backyard.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to discern if anything was amiss, but it all looked the same to him; vast stretches of grass and, on the other side of their hedge, even more grounds, the Scottish highland stretching so far out that it became mountains in the distance. He furrowed his brows. “What am I looking at?” he asked and blinked at her. “There’s nothing there.”

“_Exactly._” Daenerys knelt on the bed. She was still in her pink pyjamas, the soft silk falling down her warm body. “Where’s the snow?”

Jon scratched his neck as he closed his eyes in another yawn. “What do you mean, where’s the snow? They’ve forecasted rain for the next week.” He glanced toward the clouded sky. “Looks like it might start pissing down any minute now.”

“But it’s _ December_,” Daenerys said again, empathising the month as if it was meant to spark something in his memory.

For a hot second, Jon stared at her clueless. Then, something inside of his head clicked, and his lips parted in a silent, “Oooh…” as he sunk back beneath the duvet. “It’s December,” he spoke.

“Exactly.”

“So you thought it would snow.”

“Of course.”

“Because we’re in the North.”

“_Now _ you get it!” She nodded her head excitedly, her silver locks bouncing around her shoulders. “So, when is it meant to happen? I just can’t _ wait _ to experience a white Christmas!”

Once more, Jon’s lips parted in a soft, “Oooh…” and he covered his face with his hands.

His sweet, beautiful fiancee Daenerys was about to experience heartbreak for the first time, because he would have to explain to her that living in the North doesn’t guarantee a snowy Christmas.

Thing was, had any other person bothered him at - he glanced toward the bedside clock - _ six in the morning_, demanding to know why it wasn’t snowing, he would’ve laughed at them. But he knew deep down that Daenerys’ disillusion was caused by no other than himself.

They met in Thailand. Jon was fresh out of university and wanted to experience the world before settling down. By the time he reached Bangkok, he’d trekked across Indonesia, dined on noodle soup in Taiwan, and admired the elephant sanctuaries of India. He was on the last leg of his journey when he ran into Daenerys. She had just started an adventure of her own; born to a South African diplomat, she had spent her life travelling warm countries, but her journey to Thailand was the first she’d made alone.

They chatted over fried rice, made out in Lumphini Park, then fucked back at his hostel. By the time the sun rose, he was in love, and it only took seconds for him to cancel his flight ticket back to the UK.

Jon’s gap year turned to two years which turned to three years as they hustled their way across Asia and Africa. Once he realised that she had never set foot in Great Britain, the lies about his home country just seemed to slip naturally from his lips; he spoke of Scotland as a grand wasteland of ruins, snowclad hills, bears and wolves. She was so fascinated with his tales that he couldn’t help but keep embellishing the truth, especially when it came to stories about his childhood Christmases which she took a fancy to. He spoke of snow so thick that it reached his neck, winters that lasted months, and snow which never stopped falling every December. Right from the _ very first day. _

“Oh Daenerys,” Jon groaned as he finally let his hands slip from his face. He looked at her with pained eyes. “There is something I need to tell you.”

Daenerys cocked her head as she watched him with curious eyes. “Yeah?”

“All those stories I told you?”

“Yes?”

“The ones about snow and ice and the never-ending winters?”

“Mh-hmm?” She cocked her head to the other side, her silver hair bobbing about. Her violet eyes were so innocent, he thought, that he felt like a devil who had arrived to ruin a child’s sweetest dreams.

“Well, they were all-” He paused.

“Yes?”

“All-” He started and stopped again at once, his throat clenching. _ I can’t admit the truth_, he thought, _ I am too weak. _ “They were all… somewhat… _ untrue._”

Daenerys’ eyes narrowed. She crawled her way on top of him, settling herself on all fours above his body. “What do you mean, _ untrue?_” she asked, eyeing him with suspicion. “Surely, I didn’t move halfway across the world to bed a _ liar?_”

Jon swallowed, and, as always when in a pinch, his lips just started moving by themselves: “No, no, not at all. What I mean is, the snow will come, just not, you know, _ right away. _ Sometimes it happens toward the _ end _ of December!” Honestly, he could’ve kicked himself the moment the lie left his lips, but it was too late.

Daenerys smiled down at him, her face softening at his words. “That’s okay,” she said and pecked his forehead, “I can wait. I am just _ so excited _ for a white Christmas!”

As she snuggled back beneath the duvet, her arm thrown atop his chest, Jon stared at the ceiling above and thought, _ I am going straight to Hell. _

* * *

By the fifteenth of December, Daenerys was growing impatient.

She sat in their living room, her eyes gazing out the grand windows the same way they did every night, her lips slightly pouted. “Is it ever going to snow?” she asked out loud as he entered from the kitchen, two cups of hot chocolate in his hands.

He handed her one before sitting down next to her. “Well, you’ve just got to believe,” he replied gently, reaching for the remote in the hope of changing the subject. He turned on the TV and exclaimed: “Look, a show about beavers!” - but Daenerys didn’t even glance toward the screen.

She sunk deeper into the soft cushions of the sofa as she sighed: “Maybe I just bring bad luck.” Her lips closed around the edge of her mug as her eyes shimmered sadly.

Jon shook his head and turned to her. “Oh no,” he said, “oh no, no, no - don’t say that. Surely you don’t believe you can actually_ control the weather?_” He pushed a silver lock out of her face, making her smile a little.

“I know I can’t,” she assured him, grabbing his hand in hers. She held it between her fingertips, her eyes seeking the windows once more. “It just feels like it. I mean, what are the chances that you have snow to your hairline every year but the one Christmas I move to town?

_Pretty fifty-fifty, _ Jon thought, reminding himself that Scotland had experienced a total of thirty-seven white Christmases since the 60’s. The odds were _ not _ in their favour.

As they sat holding hands, Jon thought, _ This is all my fault. I made her believe that Scotland was this magical Christmas place. I made it sound like a second Finland! _ He pecked her hair, his own eyes searching for snow through the dark windows, but finding none. _ I have to do something. _

The easiest thing would be to admit his lies. Yet, when he looked at her pained expression, he found that it was anything but easy. Admitting to lying would mean admitting that he was not the kind, gentle soul he had thought himself to be.

Travelling with Daenerys, Jon had discovered new sides of himself. Instead of being the broody, sour Northerner that his friends and family had pinpointed him to be, she allowed him the freedom to be someone else; someone generous, like when he handed his last coins to a hungry child and instead spent the night in the rain, or funny, like the time he made her laugh when she fell and broke her ankle and they waited for the emergency services for hours in the sweltering heat. Or romantic, like when they shared a kiss under the starry sky in Seoul’s Hangang Park, no one around to scold them for their indecency when their clothes were quickly shed.

Jon wasn’t about to give up on all of that, so his lips snapped shut as he sunk his nose into her silver locks, his mind working on a plan - and once it occurred to him, it seemed so simple that he almost laughed out loud.

* * *

On Christmas morning, he was awakened by Daenerys’ excited scream. As he sat up in bed, blinking in confusion, he caught sight of her dashing about the bedroom, her cheeks bright pink. “It is snowing, Jon!” she shouted. “It is really snowing!”

As Jon smacked his lips and rubbed his eyes from sleep, Daenerys pulled the curtains aside to reveal the snowy lawn to him. Surely, small flakes of snow were falling through the air, gently landing atop the green grass, and he smiled at the sight. “Oh, it really is!” he said, feigning surprise.

For a moment, he worried Daenerys would catch on to his shaky voice, but she was too occupied looking out at the snowflakes that she paid him no attention. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered, her violet eyes big and round like those of an amazed child. She backed away from the window to sit on the edge of the bed. “It is _ actually _ snowing.”

Jon pulled the duvet aside as he sat up too. Despite the early hours - once more he glanced at the bedside clock which didn’t yet read six in the morning - he was awake. As he watched Daenerys’, a warm, fuzzy feeling spread through his body, and he thought to himself, _ This is what Christmas is all about. Making people happy. Giving them their dreams. _ He reached out to close his hand around hers, and they sat, side by side, just watching the snow fall. For a moment, he was perfectly happy, everything in his life seemingly coming together.

But the moment didn’t last; suddenly, Daenerys jumped to her feet as she announced: “I’m going outside!”

Jon blinked, then felt all the colour drain from his face. “Wait!” he called, rolling around to watch her reach into her wardrobe. She was pulling out thick jumpers, deciding which one to wear as she shed her pyjamas. “You can’t go outside!”

“Why not?” she asked, looking at him with her brows raised.

“Because-” Jon licked his lips, his mind pulling a blank. “Because… because that means _ bad luck._”

At his words, Daenerys laughed. “Don’t be silly!” she chirped as she pulled the sweater over her body, shivering as the cold wool closed around her naked skin. “I have already gotten all the luck I need!” With that, she dashed out of the bedroom, and Jon fell out of the bed in a hurry to follow.

“Please, Daenerys!” he called after her. As he crawled out of the bedroom to peek into the hallway, he saw her pulling boots on top of her pyjama bottoms. “Don’t go out there! It’s… _ cold_. I don’t want you to be ill on Christmas morning!” He knew his excuse sounded pathetic, and Daenerys sent him a kind smile.

“I’ll only be a second,” she promised, her hand already on the handle. She pushed the front door open and stepped outside, gasping in the same: “_Jon!_”

By the time Jon caught up to her, it was too late; Daenerys was stood on their front lawn, her arms wrapped around her frame as she stared at the four giant snow machines placed in each corner of their property. The machines growled as they churned out snow, spitting the flakes so high up into the air that it seemed they fell from the clouds above as they danced back toward the ground.

“Daenerys-” Jon spoke, stopping in the doorway. He was in his briefs only, his cheeks bright red and his eyes shimmering with nervousness as he glanced toward her. “Daenerys, I am _ so sorry. _ I just… I just couldn’t _ tell you_…” He was stuttering, searching for the right words to speak, but as she turned back to face him, he quieted at once.

Instead of seeming upset, Daenerys’ face broke out into a kind smile, and she whispered: “You did all this for me?”

Jon swallowed as he fiddled with his hair, shyly nodding. “I wanted for you to have that white Christmas you always dreamt of,” he spoke.

At that, she turned back to him, throwing her arms around his bare frame as she hugged him tightly. Her cheek pressed to his chest, and he placed his hand on her head, feeling her soft, silver locks. “Thank you,” she said, pressing a kiss to his neck as she looked up at him. “Thank you for trying.”

“I really don’t deserve your thanks,” Jon spoke, his cheeks still aflame. He pulled at a lock of her hair, slowly wrapping it around his fingertip. “I… Daenerys, I _ lied. _ Winters in the North are normally a dull affair, full of rain and cloudy skies.”

“Oh, Jon, _ I know._” Daenerys smiled so perfectly that he felt his heart skip a beat.

“Uh, what?”

“_ I. Know,_” she repeated, pausing at each word to empathise them. “When it still hadn’t snowed by mid December, I googled the weather forecast. I found some very interesting articles about the chance of snow in the UK.” She cocked her head as she winked at him: “You embellished a little, didn’t you?”

Jon flushed, but he nodded. “I did. I am sorry. I just couldn’t bear the thought of _ losing you._”

Daenerys reached up to cup his head between her hands, and she tip-toed to kiss his lips. “You could never lose me,” she whispered, “you silly, Northern boy.”

“Only silly for you, my Southern girl,” Jon replied, smiling into the kiss.

They embraced under the soft snow as it fell around them, covering their house and the grassy grounds. And it didn’t even matter that it was fake, because their love was very real.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeaaaah this was fluffy. I guess my heart is just feeling up for romantic fluff these days, what can I say! Hope it was still enjoyable? Thanks to DragonandDirewolf for the cute artwork. One of my favourites, not gonna lie! I love their cute relationship.


End file.
